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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28459725">The Call of a Stone Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrenchKey/pseuds/FrenchKey'>FrenchKey</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Animal Transformation, Dreams, Fairy Tale Curses, Fairy Tale Retellings, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Family Secrets, Fluff, Gen, Geralt Eskel and Lambert are brothers, Happy Ending, Lambert Needs a Hug (The Witcher), Lambert literally gets a bear hug, Lambert-centric (The Witcher), Magic, Visions in dreams</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:41:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,729</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28459725</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrenchKey/pseuds/FrenchKey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Eskel disappears during a trip to the market, Lambert must do everything in his power to find his brother. Nothing is as easy as it seems, however, and long buried secrets come to light.</p><p>A Witchery retelling of The Snow Queen.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aiden &amp; Lambert (The Witcher), Eskel &amp; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Lambert &amp; Vesemir, Eskel &amp; Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Lambert, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Triss Merigold &amp; Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Witcher Flash Fic Challenge Winter 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Call of a Stone Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I saw the prompt for this challenge and immediately had this idea. Then it sort of fell out onto the page, taking on a life of its own in the process. It was then beta'd and dramatically improved by the wonderful dap. Thank you! Hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Once upon a time, there was an evil mage named Stregobor. He was a cruel man, who believed that the nature of humanity was darkness and evil. He distrusted good deeds and urged others to the same. One day, to prove his point, he cast a spell, which he said would reveal the true nature of those it targeted. This was a lie. It was intended to strip the victim of all reason and morals, forcing them to behave in the most depraved manner they could. He set up the spell and cast it, aiming at the local alderman who was generally regarded as a kind, upstanding man. At the last minute, the Chaos twisted and writhed, escaping his control and boiling outwards in a noxious black cloud. It shot up into the sky where it roiled and crackled. Stregobor seemed unconcerned, simply watching it spark. Suddenly, it shot bright tendrils of green lightning which struck many of the villagers. Those that it struck fell about, attacking each other and causing chaos. </p><p>The cloud did not remain for long, shooting off towards the horizon. Stregobor assured the other villagers that it would dissipate on its own, and went back to his tower, unreasonably pleased with what he saw as a great success. Unfortunately, the cloud did not disperse on its own. In the years that followed, it travelled the skies of the Continent, intermittently striking out with bolts of the brightest green. After its first lightshow, the bolts reduced in size and severity, occurring one at a time and leading to a slower onset madness. The effects, however, could not be stopped.</p>
<hr/><p>Lambert sighed and slumped back into his chair. The house was quiet with Eskel away to the market. They’d lived in their small cottage on the edge of Oxenfurt for as long as Lambert could remember. It was a good life, if a little quiet. Eskel raised goats, selling their milk and cheese at the local markets. Lambert had learned to spin and took great care in brushing out their soft undercoats and turning it into fine yarn. He dyed it all sorts of beautiful colours using the plants from the forest and various other substances of dubious alchemical properties. He had recently worked out how to dye in a gradient that would create subtle shading or striping in a finished garment. Most of the time he sold the wool as hanks, but sometimes he knitted gloves or hats to sell. </p><p>He was oddly restless tonight. The air outside was grey and heavy with an incoming storm, and the staticy air made the hair on his arms stand up on end. He kept flitting between projects, picking one up and knitting a few rows, before putting it down to tidy the kitchen, then moving on to organising his knitting needles and back to a different project. He was on his third loop of the downstairs when he stopped to put his finished yarn back in the dresser drawer and his attention was caught by the portrait that lived there. It was a small thing in a handmade wooden frame. Lambert picked it up and stared at it. Geralt. His missing oldest brother. </p><p>For as long as Lambert remembered, it had just been him and Eskel in the cottage. He knew that he hadn’t been born there, Eskel had told him that much. They came from the mountains. Once, there had been three of them and they’d lived in the North with their father. Then something had happened and Geralt had vanished. Eskel, just barely twenty, had come South with three year old Lambert and installed them in Oxenfurt. He didn’t know what had happened to Geralt, or for that matter, to his father. It ate at him sometimes, not knowing. He wasn’t unhappy with his life. Far from it in fact. He just felt that there was something, some vital piece of information that was missing. </p><p>He was startled from his contemplation by a loud rumble of thunder. He frowned, turning to the window. It was nearly pitch black. No doubt Eskel would have stayed in the inn near the market once he saw the weather turning. Hopefully he wasn’t out in the storm. Lambert stoked the fire higher and settled back in his chair with his knitting just in case. The thunder rumbled on and lightning periodically lit the room. Eventually, Lambert nodded off. Had he been awake, he would have seen a distinct flash of bright, sickening green followed by a flare of the purple that always heralded Chaos.</p><p>Lambert didn’t immediately worry when the sunrise awoke him and Eskel wasn’t home. It wasn’t uncommon for a poor forecast or a sudden storm blowing in off the sea to see him staying in town after the market now that Lambert was old enough to be left alone overnight. Although, Eskel liked to joke that Lambert’s occasional bouts of childishness and his status as the much younger sibling meant that he was never going to be old enough to be alone, despite the fact he was nearly twenty now. He was glad that Eskel hadn’t braved the storm for him. </p><p>But as the noon sun beat down on him while he fed the goats, his outlook changed. Even accounting for Eskel sleeping in, having a leisurely breakfast and sauntering home, he should have been back, and Eskel typically rose with the sun and got moving quickly. He always had. Lambert tried not to panic. Perhaps Eskel had been held up discussing a last minute order. Perhaps his cart had thrown a wheel and he was having to repair it before he continued. Perhaps their old, recalcitrant donkey had sat down in the middle of the road. <em>Or perhaps,</em> a nasty little voice in his head whispered,  <em>something has happened to him and he’s not coming back</em>. Lambert shook his head to rid himself of the voice and turned his attention to brushing the goats. It wasn’t something he could let his mind wander during, since they were prone to kicking, biting or butting if he did something they didn’t like.</p><p>It was enough to settle him until evening. When it began to get dark and Eskel still hadn’t returned, the worry truly settled in and turned to panic. Clearly something terrible had happened. Enough was enough. Lambert jumped out of his chair and began throwing things into a bag. He took enough food to last the night and the next day, a warm change of socks and underwear, the small bag of healing supplies that lived under the kitchen sink and his flint and tinder. On the way out he grabbed the emergency torch from beside the door. It was stupid to go out so late. <em>You’ll never find him in the dark,</em> the voice whispered. <em>You should wait until morning</em>. But what if Eskel didn’t <em>have</em> until morning? He’d been gone a whole day already. It wasn’t worth the risk. He set out.</p><p>It took hours to reach the center of Oxenfurt. Lambert had stopped briefly to ask the neighbour’s boy to feed the goats in the morning, giving him a couple of copper pieces to sweeten the deal. He took the trail down into the village, torch held high and sweeping the road for any sign of Eskel or the cart. At the village, he stopped by the inn where they sometimes grabbed a pint after market, but no one had seen Eskel. The Lambert that arrived at the Rosemary and Thyme tavern was a sad and sorry sight. He had been sure that he would find Eskel on the road, even if he’d been injured. To find that he had either not left Oxenfurt, or that whatever had happened had taken him so far off the road as to be unfindable terrified Lambert.</p><p>He sat down at the bar and tucked his pack under his chair. The pretty bartender with the shining curls wandered her way over.</p><p>‘What can I get for you, m’dear?’ she asked.</p><p>‘I’m looking for my brother actually,’ Lambert said, willing his voice not to shake.</p><p>‘Oh? And who might yer brother be then?’</p><p>‘Eskel Vesson. About half a head taller than me, built like a tree trunk, three scars down the side of his face, dark hair,’ Lambert said.</p><p>‘Oh aye! I saw him yesterday afternoon. Stabled his donkey here, had a pint, then left. Said he was going to visit the blacksmith about an order? Course, that was right before the storm kicked up.’</p><p>Lambert frowned. The blacksmith? They didn’t need anything from the blacksmith. Did they?</p><p>‘Could you give me some directions, please, ma’am,’ he asked, pasting a friendly grimace onto his face.</p><p>As soon as he’d acquired the directions, he set off. It wasn’t far to the shop Eskel had been headed for. It was just a few streets away, along the banks of the Pontar. The blacksmith was a big man, burly and intimidating, but Lambert knew him from previous visits and ducked into the shop to smile at him.</p><p>‘Eskel you say,’ the man frowned after Lambert had explained his concerns. ‘Can’t say as I’ve seen him this week. And you’re sure he was coming here?’</p><p>‘That’s what Marta said. Told me he’d said he was going to see the blacksmith about an order and gave me directions here when I asked. Apparently he left right before the storm.’</p><p>The blacksmith’s face fell. ‘Right before the storm? I’m sorry, boy, but ye’d be best served looking at the bottom of the Pontar. Storm was a bad ‘un. Downright unnatural, I’d say.’</p><p>‘Unnatural?’ Lambert asked, trying not to think about Eskel’s body floating away down the river while he sat at home snug in front of the fire.</p><p>‘Aye. Some o’ the lightning was green. Can’t say I’ve ever seen the like afore. If you’re looking to know more, I heard there’s a witch livin’ out by Midcopse. Might try her. Still, I’d say the river’s your best bet. Waters were high and the cobbles get right slippery in the rain. Yer brother’d not be the first to go over.’</p><p>Lambert thanked the man as politely as he could manage and stumbled out of the shop. His feet pulled him forward with no direction from his mind and he found himself standing on the edge of the river, staring down at the rushing brown water. Eskel couldn’t be dead. He just couldn’t. Lambert refused to believe it. Suddenly furious, he leaned down and picked up a smooth black pebble and hurled it into the river with all his might. </p><p>‘Where’s my brother?’ he howled. A couple of passersby raised their eyebrows and crossed the road to give him a wide berth, but he paid them no mind. Something odd was happening in the water. The rock hit with a splash and the water rippled outwards, but the ripples didn’t continue. In the wake of the first ripple, the water was as still as a millpool. Lambert leaned over, expecting to see his reflection. Instead, he saw something else.</p><p>
  <em>Eskel hurries down the street, hood pulled up against the driving rain. He's shivering lightly, but surefooted on the wet cobbles. Occasional bursts of lightning light up the scene. The path is familiar, as it is the one leading to the spot where Lambert stands now. Suddenly a viscious crackle of green energy flies down and strikes the path before Eskel’s feet. Tendrils of green light spiral outwards and where they touch Eskel, they twine around him, twisting and writhing, limning him in an eerie green glow. The light dissipates and leaves Eskel standing there, unchanged but for the glowing green of his eyes. Purple energy crackles and a portal openes. A hand reaches through and pulls Eskel in and the portal snaps closed behind him. The storm rages on above an empty street.</em>
</p><p>Lambert snarled as the picture scattered into a thousand tiny ripples. Someone had his brother. Someone was going to pay. </p><p>He paused only long enough to offer a small prayer of thanks to the spirit of the Pontar for its help. Then, he turned and marched off. His first stop was the Rosemary and Thyme to buy more food and collect Mathilde. She was old and grumpy, but she was a better bet than walking the whole way. Duly provisioned, he set out for Midcopse.</p>
<hr/><p>Midcopse was, in Lambert’s professional opinion, a shithole. It could only charitably be called a village. More accurately, it was a collection of run down cottages with a couple of outlying farms. The people were weathered, gaunt and unhelpful. Doubtless his own attitude helped little, but he was exhausted after the long days of travel it had taken to get there.</p><p>‘I’m looking for a witch,’ he explained again for the third time in as many minutes, quickly losing his patience with the nonsense. ‘I was told there’s a witch in these parts. I need her help.’</p><p>Ten minutes later, he was finally directed to the beginning of a trail into the forest. For some reason, best known to someone that wasn’t Lambert, the village referred to it as the Trail of Treats. The witch lived at the other end, he was told, and would be able to help him. He left Mathilde in the dutiful care of a young girl who promised to care for her until he returned, and set off.</p><p>‘She’s wonderful, she’s magical, she makes the fucking sun go round,’ he muttered petulantly as he walked. Once the villagers had been reassured that he wanted the witch’s help and not her head they had been all too happy to sing her praises. Lambert wasn’t convinced that she was half as useful as these people seemed to think. He supposed he’d find out at the other end of the trail. Also, who marked a trail with baked goods, for Melitele’s sake? What a waste of good sweetbreads. He reached out and gently prodded one, setting it to swinging. It left a honey sticky residue behind that he licked off his fingers without thinking.</p><p>The witch’s cottage didn’t look like much. It was certainly in better repair than those of the village, but it was barely larger than Lambert and Eskel’s own home. He’d been expecting a small manor at the very least. As he got closer, he realised that the walls seemed to be made of gingerbread. It was almost enough to make him turn around and leave again, but he thought of Eskel being drawn through the portal, firmed his resolve, and knocked on the door.</p><p>A beautiful blonde woman opened it a moment later and beamed at him. Her smile was the most beautiful thing Lambert had ever seen. Her eyes were the colour of the finest sapphires and her velvet dress showed off a fine hourglass figure. She was the most beautiful thing Lambert had ever set eyes on. </p><p>‘Oh myyyy,’ she purred, ‘Aren’t you a handsome lad? Are you here to ask for my favour?’ </p><p>She stepped back and gestured for Lambert to enter. He stumbled forward a few steps, his entire being focused on pleasing her. His head felt foggy and strange. She was so beautiful and he needed to obey her. He needed something. Someone. He needed her. No, he was looking for a man. She grinned and his eyes caught on the sharp point of her teeth. Another grin blossomed in his mind’s eye. It was a warm, slightly lopsided grin, broken up by a scarred lip. Eskel. He needed to find Eskel. He clenched his fists until his nails bit into his palms. The small pain grounded him and snapped the thread of whatever enchantment she was weaving. He stumbled backwards, shaking his head.</p><p>‘No,’ he yelled and ran. He made it into the trees and kept running, somehow expecting her to be able to call him back, or to follow him and ensnare him again. He had nearly forgotten his purpose. </p><p>Eventually, his legs gave out and he fell to the ground at the foot of a tall pine tree. He curled up into a ball, chest heaving with the exertion, and sobbed. He cried for Eskel and his unknown fate. He cried for himself, lost and alone in the woods with no idea where to go next without even faithful Mathilde to keep him company. And he cried for the terror he had felt when he realised how much he wanted to embrace the peace the witch had created. It hadn’t been real, he knew that, but for the first time since the storm, Lambert hadn’t felt scared. Somehow it made the fear feel even worse now. </p><p>He cried until he could cry no more, then he fell into an uneasy sleep, his pack cradled in his arms. As he slept, he dreamed.</p><p>
  <em>A crow perches on a fallen log. It tips its head to one side and regards him with one beady eye. It opens its beak and speaks. ‘I can help you,’ it says. ‘I know what you seek and where you must go. Look for me when you wake. You have plenty reason to be afraid, but do not let the fear master you. Face forward with courage and kindness and you will find the path you need. Look for me when you wake.'</em>
</p><p>The rays of the rising sun crawled across Lambert’s face, calling him out of sleep. His eyes felt horribly gritty and his mouth was dry. He drank deeply from his waterskin and leaned against the tree. Investigating his pack, he saw that he had enough food to last another day, maybe two if he was careful. He knew how to hunt, but it would slow him down. He snorted to himself. He didn’t know where he was going. What did it matter if he had to hunt for food along the way. He tipped his head back and stared up at the slivers of sky he could see through the treetops. Somewhere in the woods a bird called. Abruptly, Lambert remembered the crow in his dream. </p><p>Feeling silly, he stood and returned everything to his pack. There was no way there was really a helpful crow just hanging about waiting for him. Then again, it wasn’t any stranger than anything <em>else</em> that had happened in the last week. He closed his eyes and listened. In the distance, he heard a faint <em>caw</em>. Sighing, he turned and walked towards it. </p><p>Ten minutes and one bramble patch later, he stumbled into the clearing from his dream. The crow sat on the log, exactly as it had the night before. It opened its beak and Lambert almost expected to hear that same, dry voice emerge. Instead it cawed at him, just like any other crow.</p><p>‘Well,’ he said, ‘I found you. Now what?’</p><p>The crow flapped its wings and flew away. Of course. It was just a crow. How stupid to think that maybe he could do anything to help. Stupid to think he could do anything other than get completely lost and make a mess of things.</p><p>
  <em>CAW</em>
</p><p>The crow was in a tree on the other side of the clearing. Lambert walked towards it. It hopped into the air and flapped to another tree, slightly further away. Every time he drew close, it moved just a little further on. </p><p>‘Do you want me to follow you?’ he asked?</p><p>The crow fixed him with a disappointed stare that would have put Eskel to shame. </p><p>‘Lead on then.’</p><p>Assured now that Lambert was following, the crow flew further this time, however it never left his sight. It led him to a small animal trail through the underbrush and they followed it for a time. The trail wasn’t easy, but the crow never seemed to get tired of waiting for Lambert to catch up, simply sitting patiently in whichever roost it had chosen until he caught up, then flying on. At midday it stopped and refused to fly on until Lambert had sat down. He had been beginning to feel a little hungry, so he dug out some bread and cheese for his lunch. He offered a little to the crow, who took it daintily and ate it. He looked around and found a stone with a nice hollow in it and poured some water for the crow. He knew that he was thirsty and had no doubt that the bird would be as well. Once it had drunk, the crow knocked its beak against his knee.</p><p>They travelled in this fashion for the rest of the day. Soon after midday on the second day, the forest began to thin and the crow began cawing in what Lambert could only describe as excitement. When they broke from the trees, he could see why. A large, well kept manor sprawled before them. It was surrounded by beautifully kept gardens and somewhere in the distance Lambert could hear the cheerful burbling of a stream. The crow flew off towards the wall.</p><p>‘I can’t go in there!’ Lambert hissed as he caught up.</p><p>The crow offered no reply, simply flying further along the wall in the direction of the gate. For lack of a better idea, Lambert followed.</p><p>‘Well, hello there!’ a cheerful voice called as the crow alighted on the wrought iron gate. ‘I thought you weren’t coming back.’</p><p>Lambert rounded the corner to see a young girl, of maybe fourteen, smiling up at the crow. Her blonde hair was so light as to be almost white and it shone in the sunshine. Her smile was full of joy, with none of the ominous feeling that he’d got from the witch. She caught sight of Lambert and startled a little.</p><p>‘Oh! Hello. I didn’t see you there. Are you alright?’ she asked.</p><p>Lambert suddenly became aware of the state of his clothes, covered in forest debris and mud as they were. No doubt he looked like he’d never seen the inside of a bath in his life. He certainly felt like it. Next to this girl, he felt positively disgusting.</p><p>‘I… em, well... ‘ he started, ‘I fear I’m going to sound awfully silly, but the crow brought me here.’</p><p>She looked up at the crow which bobbed its head in something very like a nod.</p><p>‘Well, you’d better come in then,’ she said.</p><p>Lambert tried to argue that it was hardly proper, but she would not be swayed, and in short order, Lambert found himself inside, washed and dressed in clean new clothes with no holes or patches and sitting at a long dining table, eating something that he thought was pheasant. He tried very hard not to gulp it down like it was the best thing he’d tasted in weeks, even though it definitely was. The crow was perched on the back of his chair.</p><p>‘So,’ the girl said once he’d finished his meal, ‘How can I help you?’</p><p>So Lambert told her his story and she offered him as much help as her estate could provide and insisted that he stayed the night and rested. He tried to argue that it was too much, but she wouldn’t hear of it.</p><p>‘I have lived on this estate my whole life,’ she told him, ‘One day, around six years ago, a terrible storm came. The same terrible green lightning took my father and my mother away from me, leaving me with just my grandmother to raise me. If you can find your brother, maybe you will also find my parents. I cannot leave the estate, but you can. If there is anything within my power that will help you, it is yours.’</p><p>Overwhelmed with gratitude, Lambert retired to bed and slept deeply and calmly for the first time since Eskel had vanished. If he dreamed, he did not remember it.</p><p>In the morning, the young girl filled his pack with provisions and coin, and gave him use of a carriage and horse. When she asked where he intended to go next, however, he was unable to answer. She frowned and closed her eyes.</p><p>‘I have some small spark of magic,’ she said, ‘I know not where your path ends, but I feel that it leads North.’</p><p>So he hitched the horse to the carriage and set out northwards, with the crow perched beside him..</p>
<hr/><p>The road North was quiet and well maintained for many leagues. He crossed the majority of Redania without difficulty. It was not until they passed into Ghelibol that he encountered any trouble. The first he knew of it was loud, distressed screeching from the crow and then the carriage stopped suddenly with a whinny from the horse. Lambert jolted out of his thoughts, looked down, and found an arrow pointed at his nose. </p><p>‘Down you get,’ a hooded figure growled, ‘I am Renfri of Creyden and <em>you</em> are being robbed.’</p><p>That, thought Lambert, was pretty obvious. Still, he knew better than to say that out loud. He did as he was told and carefully got down from the carriage. Renfri looked him over, patted his pockets and scowled at him. </p><p>‘What kind of <em>idiot</em> doesn’t carry a weapon on this road?’</p><p>The voice was less deliberately growly this time, and Lambert thought that it possibly belonged to a young woman. He shrugged. </p><p>‘Me, apparently.’</p><p>‘You’re coming with me,’ she said. ‘I’m not risking you running off for help. Come on.’</p><p>Not seeing any other option, Lambert walked alongside the carriage, with her following close behind him. She had lowered her bow, but he had seen the wicked sword hanging at her hip and had no intention of testing her by trying to run.</p><p>She turned him from the road a little less than a mile from the ambush. They made their way across a field, along a path and through a gate to a small farmhouse where she pushed him into the stable and tied him to a post. Then, she stabled the horse, soothing it and feeding it sugar cubes. Eventually she left and he was alone.</p><p>
  <em>CAW</em>
</p><p>The crow perched on his knee and looked somewhat judgemental. </p><p>‘What?’ he asked, ‘I was hardly going to fight her. She’d have killed me.’</p><p>The crow stared at him then turned its back. A burbling coo started up from the rafters, sounding almost like laughter. Looking up, Lambert spotted two doves, one brown and one so light a grey it almost looked blue. Lambert looked at them, then back at the crow.</p><p>‘What am I going to do?’ he asked.</p><p>The crow ignored him. The doves, however, cooed in what sounded like a questioning manner.</p><p>‘I’m never going to find Eskel if I’m locked up in here,’ he said, trying not to cry. </p><p>The doves shuffled closer along the rafter and, with them cooing encouragement, he spilled his whole sorry tale. Somehow, it made him feel a bit better, even if he still could not see a way out. After he was finished he shuffled around until he was as comfortable as he could be with his hands bound and fell asleep.</p><p>
  <em>The doves look down at him from the rafters. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘Oh the poor dear,’ the brown one says.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘Yes, quite the pickle he’s in!’ says the grey.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘Darling, you’re going to have to remember this when you wake up, so listen carefully. We don’t have much time.’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Lambert nods, or he thinks he does. Dreams are odd like that.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘Your brother came past here, not long after the storm. He was with a mage by the name of Yennefer. This is one of her stopping points. I imagine they were heading for Kaer Mohren,’ the grey dove tells him seriously.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘You will need to continue North, then turn East across the Kestrel Mountains. There is a man at the end of the pass that will be able to help you,’ the brown dove coos.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘Remember, that although the path is hard, it is not impossible.’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘Trust the white wolf.’</em>
</p><p>With their advice churning through his mind, he woke up. The stable door clattered open and the girl from the day before strode in. This time her hood was down and he could see her frown, framed by beautiful chocolate curls. </p><p>‘You’re an idiot,’ she declared, ‘But I can’t keep you here when I know that you mean no harm and seek something as important as you do.’</p><p>She sighed and rolled her eyes at his sputtering. </p><p>‘I heard you talking last night. I’m not so cruel as to keep you from your quest. I will, however, claim your carriage as my own. You’ll only get attacked again if you take it. You can have the horse though. Here,’ she cast a bundle down by his feet, ‘If you’re going further North, you’ll need these.’</p><p>With that, she cut his bonds, untied the horse and vanished back into the house. Never one to stare too long at good fortune, lest it turn to a mirage, Lambert picked up the bundle she’d tossed and led the horse outside. The sun was shining brightly, but there was a chill in the air. He mounted and spurred the horse up the road. They’d barely made it a handful of steps when the crow landed on the saddle in front of him with a grating caw. The horse, used to this by now, flicked its ears.</p><p>‘I wasn’t leaving you behind. I just wanted to get out of sight of the farm before she changed her mind,’ Lambert said.</p><p>As they rode, he turned the doves’ advice over in his mind. North, then East across the mountains. Find the man at the end of the pass. Trust the White Wolf. For some reason, he could hear the capital letters there. For a moment, Lambert wondered when he had become the sort of person to listen to strange birds bringing him messages in dreams, but he supposed it didn’t matter. He still didn’t have a better idea and listening to the crow had worked out alright. He turned North and the horse plodded along.</p>
<hr/><p>The Kestrel Mountains were high and freezing. Among the things Renfri had given him was a white fur cloak which had kept the worst of the weather from him in the foothills. Here, in the mountains proper, it wasn’t enough. He sat by his meagre campfire and shivered. The wood wasn’t quite dry enough, or plentiful enough for it to be truly warming. He had tried snuggling up against the horse, but it had huffed and nipped at him, so he’d given it up as a bad job. Hopefully he wouldn’t freeze during the night.</p><p>Movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention and he swung round. Amber eyes shone out of the darkness and he yelped, scrambling backwards. A huge, hulking shape loomed up and resolved into a gigantic white wolf. Despite himself, Lambert whimpered. It was huge. He had no real notion of how big a wolf was meant to be, but this one seemed like it was bigger than it should be. A stray kick of his flailing foot sent snow fountaining over the edge of the campfire, extinguishing all but the smallest of flames. </p><p>‘Fuck. Fuck, shit, balls, fuck. I don’t wanna die,’ he muttered, still hopping backwards. </p><p>The wolf came into the light then sat down and lolled its tongue out. The crow flew over and landed in front of it. Lambert started forward.</p><p>‘No!’ he yelped.</p><p>As annoying as he had found the bouncy, loud corvid to begin with, its presence had grown on him and he had no desire to see it becoming dinner. He was shocked to see the wolf leaning down and gently nudging against its beak with a soft snout. </p><p>‘Trust the White Wolf,’ he muttered.</p><p>The wolf looked up at that and rolled over, yipping happily. Given the rest of the things he’d seen recently, Lambert couldn’t quite see how this was any <em>more</em> strange, so he leaned forward and offered a gloved hand to sniff.</p><p>‘Sorry, it’s too cold to take the glove off,’ he said.</p><p>The wolf looked at him judgmentally, then stalked over and shoved its huge head into his chest until he fell over. Then it curled around him and yawned. Warmth began to seep into Lambert’s extremities. He shivered a little and buried his fingers and nose into the wolf’s fur and fell asleep like that.</p><p>The next morning, the wolf led the way down the mountain. His horse wasn’t overly fond of following the large predator, but she did as she was told, only twitching slightly when the wolf got too close. Lambert resolved that, as soon as he was able, he was buying her as many apples as she wanted.</p><p>Again that night the wolf slept curled around Lambert, protecting him from the biting wind that wanted to steal all his heat. The next day, they finally left the mountains and the wolf led them to a small hut by the Gwenllech River. It pawed and scratched at the door until a grizzled old man opened it. </p><p>‘Ah, you found him then. Good.’ He looked up at Lambert. ‘You’d better come in.’</p><p>Lambert, long past the point of confusion or consternation did as he was told. The wolf followed him and curled up on the hearth. The old man sat them down at a small table and bustled about, making two cups of strong black tea. Only once they both had drunk did he speak again.</p><p>‘You’re searching for something,’ he said.</p><p>Lambert nodded. ‘Yes, I… How did you…?’</p><p>‘I dream, young man, and when you’re as old as me, you learn what stock to put in dreams. I knew you would come and I knew you would be searching. Tell me,’ he instructed.</p><p>So Lambert once again spilled the whole story. The old man simply nodded and hummed as he spoke, periodically refilling their teacups. It took hours for the entire tale to be told, beginning to end. Eventually though, it was done and Lambert felt lighter for the telling.</p><p>‘Well then!’ the old man said, ‘You’ll be needing to go see Old Vesemir up by the Blue Mountains. I’ve no doubt he’ll know where to send you. Little wolfy here should know where to go.’ He nodded towards the white wolf who had left the hearth and stretched out across Lambert’s feet sometime in the telling. </p><p>‘Am I even getting close?’ Lambert asked. </p><p>‘I’d say so. Don’t worry too much. You’ll get there. Trust in yourself and in your friends. Now! Help me get lunch ready. I won’t send you back out there without a good meal in you.’</p><p>Lambert stuttered out his thanks and did as he was told. It didn’t seem possible to defy the man. He was so calm and sure of himself. He moved around his small hut with the unthinking grace of someone entirely certain in his space. Lunch was a bowl of hearty stew with plenty of dense rye bread. It filled him up and warmed him through, and afterwards, Lambert wanted nothing more than to fall asleep. </p><p>‘None of that now!’ the old man told him. ‘You’ve still got a bit of a journey ahead. Better get moving.’</p><p>So Lambert, freshly provisioned with more bread and some good venison jerky, set out into the wilds of Kaedwen, heading for the Blue Mountains and Old Vesemir, whoever he may be. The old man gave him one last thing before he left, a long strip of tanned leather, with three runes stitched to the top.</p>
<hr/><p>Kaedwen was beautiful, Lambert thought, looking back out across the fields he had crossed. It had taken several weeks to reach the foothills of the Blue Mountains and he had learned quickly how to build an effective and warm campfire, under the odd instruction of the wolf. As they travelled together, Lambert learned to read his mood in the twitches of his ears, the nudges of his snout or the quiet whines and snuffles he made. He was much quieter and more sedate than the crow, who never hesitated to make his opinion known, but Lambert enjoyed travelling with him all the same.</p><p>‘Nearly there now, eh?’ he said, reaching down to scratch behind one soft ear. The wolf leaned his considerable bulk against Lambert’s leg for a moment or two, then loped on. Lambert swung himself back up into the saddle and followed him.</p><p>The next day, they reached a hut on the edge of a small lake. It was surrounded by bare, spindly trees that drooped towards the water, trailing their branches and leaving small ripples behind. Frost clung to their branches, making the whole scene sparkle in the late afternoon sun. When Lambert knocked on the door, at the urging of the wolf, icicles shivered and chimed above him.</p><p>When the door opened, Lambert gaped. The man that looked back was incredibly familiar. It was like looking into a mirror, but one that added the weight of years to his reflection. Staring, Lambert tried to step backwards, only to find himself blocked by the bulk of the wolf at his back.</p><p>‘Lambert?’ the man gasped, gaping like a fish.</p><p>‘How do you know my name?’ Lambert asked, glaring.</p><p>‘How could I not? You’ve grown a lot since I last saw you, but you are still very much yourself, my son. Please, come in.’</p><p>Stunned into silence, Lambert let the wolf and the crow herd him through the door into the hut, where he sank into a seat and tried to remember how to breathe.</p><p>‘How did you come to be here?’ the man asked.</p><p>‘An old man by the Kestrel Mountains sent me. Told me to give you this,’ Lambert said, holding out the leather in a shaking hand.</p><p>‘Let me guess,’ the man said, taking the leather, ‘He didn’t introduce himself, or tell you anything useful? Just made you drink endless cups of tea and gave you vague directions?’</p><p>The wolf huffed and lolled his tongue in amusement.</p><p>‘Something like that, yes.’</p><p>‘That’s Guxart alright. Old bastard never changes. I’m sorry he didn’t give you any warning.’</p><p>‘Who are you?’ Lambert burst out, unable to hold the questions inside any longer.</p><p>‘My name is Vesemir. To explain who I am to you, well, I’ll need to tell you a story.’</p><p>Lambert gestured for him to continue.</p><p>
  <em>A man spins around on the ice of the lake, followed by three boys. The elder two are near grown, but the youngest is barely able to keep himself upright alone. His brothers hold a hand each, pulling him along. His face is lit up and his giggles spiral out through the frozen air. The man smiles back at them, indulgent. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Suddenly, his face turns to a rictus of horror. A storm cloud blows in, spitting strikes of acid green. He yells, gesturing for the boys to run. They take off as fast as they can, shepherding the little one. He trips and falls to the ice, and cries. The eldest, a man with long white hair, turns and throws himself over the young boy’s body, just as a lightning strike sears the sky and engulfs him. When it is over, he stands up and snarls at his father. The little boy scoots back in fear, where he is grabbed by the other brother who hustles them to the house. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Their father, hands wide and pleading steps towards the white haired man. He snarls again and retreats, primal panic showing in his eyes. A portal spins open and a tall, beautiful mage with violet eyes steps through. She raises her hand and casts on the snarling man.</em>
</p><p>‘I remember the lightning,’ Lambert whispered. ‘Eskel always told me it was just a bad dream.’</p><p>‘I sent the pair of you to live in Oxenfurt because I thought you’d be safe there,’ Vesemir explained. He sounded tired and sad, his head drooping. ‘Yennefer thought it would take longer than this for the storm to make it that far across the Continent. All we wanted was for you to grow up safe and happy.’</p><p>‘Why didn’t you come with us?’ Lambert asked.</p><p>‘I couldn’t leave Geralt.’</p><p>The wolf lifted its head from its paws and whined, nudging at Vesemir’s hand until he obliged it with firm strokes. </p><p>‘The magic can’t be reversed,’ Vesemir explained, ‘But it can be halted. The only way to prevent it from taking over the person’s mind is to change them, fundamentally. Your eldest brother, Geralt, was always an independent sort. It didn’t really surprise me that this was the form his soul took. It’s not practical for somewhere like Oxenfurt. He’d have risked his life just being there and I couldn’t leave him here alone. Eskel and I agreed. I stayed with Geralt and he took you to safety.’</p><p>Lambert looked down at the wolf.</p><p>‘Geralt?’ he asked. </p><p>The wolf rolled onto its back and waved its paws in the air. Lambert burst into slightly hysterical giggles.</p><p>‘You mean to say,’ he gasped, ‘that you’re my brother?’</p><p>The wolf rolled back over and butted its head into his chest gently. </p><p>‘And the crow?’</p><p>‘His name is Aiden. I don’t know much else about him unfortunately. Yennefer tends to bring the ones she can save back to Kaer Morhen. If it’s safe to let them out into the world, she will. Some of them visit me, sometimes.’</p><p>‘You know I have to go and find Eskel?’ Lambert said.</p><p>‘I know that you won’t rest until you have. But not tonight. You can start up the trail in the morning.’</p><p>So Lambert slept, deeply and peacefully. He dreamed a silly scene of a brown bear catching snowflakes on its tongue and woke up feeling refreshed and cheerful.  He felt better knowing that Eskel was most likely safe, even if his form was somewhat different. </p><p>After breakfast he turned to Geralt and Aiden. ‘Are you two coming?’</p><p>Aiden flapped over and landed on his head. Geralt came and stood at his side. Lambert gently touched a hand to his head. </p><p>‘Thanks,’ he whispered.</p><p>The trail up the mountain was steep and treacherous with ice. Lambert scrambled carefully up the sharp rocks with Geralt behind him in case he fell. Aiden flew ahead, keeping an eye on the terrain and steering Lambert around particularly nasty drops. He tried very hard not to look down as they went higher and higher up the mountain. The path had no defined edge and it fell away into open space, with nothing to catch him if he fell until the hard ground, far far below. </p><p>It was late by the time the Keep came into sight, appearing suddenly as Lambert crested a particularly steep incline and peered around a corner. The sky was beginning to darken, with beautiful ribbons of orange, red and purple kissing the horizon. The trail finally began to level out, crossing a deep gorge with an ominously tiny bridge. Lambert kept his eyes on Aiden flying in front of him and refused to look over the edge. Whoever had once lived in the Keep was clearly insane.</p><p>He reached the main gate in the velvet light of true dusk. He raised a hand to knock and then realised that it was most likely pointless. Unless this Yennefer was in the courtyard, she’d never hear him. Geralt took the decision out of his hands, huffing and shoving into the gate with a shoulder. It swung open on silent, well-oiled hinges. Lambert peered through, taking in the empty courtyard with its cracked flagstones and the creeping grass that seemed to be reclaiming the edges. The Keep itself was built of imposing grey granite which seemed to suck all the light out of the surroundings and into itself. Lambert shivered. It looked like a cold place.</p><p>Geralt nudged his head into the back of Lambert’s knees, sending him stumbling forward. Aiden cawed a laugh and flew up to the huge wooden doors, pecking insistently at the handle. At the first touch of Lambert’s fingers the door creaked open. He shivered. There were torches lit inside, but he couldn’t see far and he was unwilling to wander into a home that he <em>knew</em> contained a powerful sorceress. </p><p>‘Should I knock?’ he asked Geralt, assuming that his brother —  and he still couldn’t quite get his head around that — would know what to do.</p><p><em>AWOOOOO</em>. Geralt tipped his head back and howled. The noise rose and spun outwards, bouncing off the walls and the sheer mountain sides, bouncing back almost louder than it had left. <em>AWOOOOOOOOOO</em>. He called again.</p><p>‘Hold your horses, Geralt!’ a woman’s voice called from within. Lambert could hear booted feet clattering across the flagstones. ‘I don’t know how many times I’ve told you just to come in and you still insist on… Oh. Hello. Who are you then?’ she asked, catching sight of Lambert.</p><p>He stared at her. There was no doubt that this was the sorceress from Vesemir’s story. If he hadn’t recognised her by the waterfall of raven hair, or the piercing violet eyes, he would still have known her by the crackling aura of power that surrounded her, causing the hair on his arms to raise and a shiver to run down his spine. He inclined his head to her.</p><p>‘Lady Yennefer. I am Lambert Vesson, son of Vesemir and brother of Geralt and Eskel. I am here seeking my brother.’</p><p>‘Well, you’d best come in and see him then,’ she said.</p><p>She led him through the wide halls of the Keep to a large bedroom. There was very little furniture within. The bed had been replaced by a pile of blankets and furs which seemed to be breathing. Lambert took a careful step closer and froze when he realised that he was not staring at a cured fur, but rather at the living back of a huge brown bear.</p><p>‘Eskel?’ he breathed.</p><p>The bear snorted and huffed, then opened one huge eye and rolled over. Faster than Lambert thought a bear could move, it leapt up and raced towards him, bowling him over and planting two huge paws on his shoulders. Long, wickedly curved claws chimed on the stone beside his head and he gulped. The bear stared at him with horrifyingly familiar eyes, then leaned down and licked him from chin to hair. He shoved at it ineffectively.</p><p>‘For fuck’s sake, you asshole,’ he muttered, ‘If I hadn’t been sure it was you, I am now, dammit.’ </p><p>Eskel made a chuffing noise that was meant to be a laugh and moved his paws to let him up. He turned his big head and bumped noses with Geralt and nodded to Aiden who had flown in and perched on the windowsill. Lambert sat up, scratched the back of his head, threw his arms around Eskel’s neck and burst into tears. Eskel simply sat patiently and bore the tears soaking into his fur.</p><p>Eventually, Lambert sniffled to a stop and sat back. He stroked a curious hand down his brother’s muzzle, marvelling at how soft his fur is. </p><p>‘I’m so glad you’re safe,’ he whispered. ‘I was so scared when you didn’t come home.’</p><p>Eskel nuzzled into his chest, nearly knocking him back again. He was held upright by Geralt’s warm bulk. </p><p>‘If you come along to the main hall we can eat and I can answer any questions you have,’ Yennefer said from the doorway. Lambert nodded and followed her down.</p><p>Soon they were sitting at one end of a long wooden trestle table. Lambert could see that it had once had benches that went with it, but they’d been removed and replaced with two chairs. Geralt and Esekl were both large enough to sit at the table without any assistance, and Aiden simply perched on the end. Yennefer fetched a saucer of grains for Aiden, three impressively large salmon for Eskel and a chunk of meat on the bone for Geralt. For herself and Lambert she brought out two plates of meat filled dumplings and fried potatoes. </p><p>‘I had wondered why I was moved to make extra dinner tonight,’ she said, smiling gently at him.</p><p>Lambert did his best to smile back, but the stress and uncertainty of the last few months and the emotional rollercoaster of seeing Eskel again, but as a bear, made it difficult.</p><p>‘Do you want me to explain all of this?’ she said, gesturing at the animals sharing their table.</p><p>‘Yes, please,’ Lambert said.</p><p>‘The curse is an old one, cast by a member of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers. He was a cruel, unkind man who wanted to see others suffer. I took great pleasure in escorting him back to Ban Aard to face justice for his crimes. The magic is designed to warp the human mind, to reduce it to instinct, while also stripping away all morals and replacing them with cruelty. Once it has struck, there is no way that I have yet found to break it.’</p><p>Lambert bit into a dumpling and nodded to show he was listening. They were surprisingly good, well cooked and flavoursome with a subtle blend of spices and garlic. He finished his mouthful and quickly went back for another.</p><p>‘In my research, I realised that while I could not break the curse, I could halt it before it had gained a significant foothold on the sufferer,’ Yennefer continued. ‘I will spare you the Chaos theory and simply say that if the sufferer is significantly altered, the spell no longer views them as the same subject and will become dormant. Permanent transformation is impossible in all but a few circumstances. Mostly, circumstances that I was unwilling to inflict on innocents.’</p><p>That sounded ominous. ‘The animals, though. That’s safe?’ he asked.</p><p>‘Yes. Transformation works by exchange. This spell though, is a very very old one. It’s based more in the nature magic of the elves than the Chaos magic of the sorceresses. It calls forth that which was already inside and is anchored fairly easily by exchanging something small. The Chaos spells all take things that no one would be willing to lose, but this has many more options. It only needs anchored at all because it’s intended to allow the caster to switch back and forth easily.’</p><p>‘They had to give something up?’ Lambert asked. It was all a bit beyond him, but that didn’t sound particularly pleasant.</p><p>‘Nothing they weren’t willing to,’ Yennefer assured him. ‘They all had the choice. Geralt for example,’ she paused and looked to him, not continuing until he had nodded his great white head, ‘he gave up his hair colour. The white is permanent now.’</p><p>‘And Eskel?’ Lambert asked, looking across the table to his brother who was busy ripping the head off a salmon.</p><p>‘He gave up the memories of his first real winter. The first one he really remembered. He said it was worth losing to keep himself.’</p><p>Lambert blinked back tears.</p><p>‘Is there nothing that can be done?’ he asked.</p><p>‘There are a few things I could try still,’ Yennefer said. ‘Actually, your arrival could not have been more fortuitous. Your emotional outburst earlier seems to have confirmed a new theory of mine.’</p><p>‘How so?’</p><p>‘Last summer, I found a book that suggested the old tales, the ones that have passed so far out of reality as to have become bedtime stories for children, may have more truth to them than now believed. I found the first hand account of a mage that attempted to cure the sleeping sickness that afflicted the Koviri Royal Family back in the 500s. I began looking into other so called “fairy tales” and found some corroborating evidence for some of them. Not all, mind you, but enough. I believe that you may be the key to breaking your brothers’ curses. I felt the movement of Chaos when you cried.’</p><p>‘You mean, I can fix them?’ Lambert asked, shoving his plate aside. </p><p>‘Maybe,’ Yennefer said, suddenly stern. ‘Remember, I have been trying for many years and have had no success. There is no guarantee it will work. Also, we will not be making the attempt before we have slept. No!’ she said, raising a hand as Lambert opened his mouth to argue. ‘It will only work if they are in their human forms. I will <em>not</em> attempt such difficult magic on living beings while tired. We will try in the morning.’</p><p>That was her last word on the subject. Lambert acquiesced with bad grace and retired to his borrowed bed after the meal. Despite himself, he fell into a deep sleep.</p><p>The morning dawned bright and sunny. They ate a quick breakfast and moved outside to the courtyard after Yennefer explained that the sunlight would help her to hold the spells. </p><p>‘Once I change them back, you will have to cry directly onto their skin,’ Yennefer explained. ‘You won’t have long before the curse begins its work again.’</p><p>Lambert swallowed hard and nodded. He was ready. He would help them.</p><p>Eskel stepped forward first and Yennefer raised her hands. Purple fire sprang to life around them and shot out to surround the form of the bear. Lambert squinted, trying to see what was happening, but it was too bright and his eyes watered. Suddenly, the light was gone and his brother stood in front of him, a twisted snarl on his face.</p><p>‘Quickly!’ Yennefer urged. </p><p>Lambert leapt forward and threw his arms around Eskel, who struggled and tried to fight him off. He was much stronger than Lambert had ever been and he nearly succeeded in getting away until Geralt danced forward and twined around his legs, unbalancing him enough for Lambert to wipe his wet cheek across the back of one flailing hand. It hadn’t been difficult to summon tears at the disdainful look and lack of true recognition from his brother. </p><p>The three of them went down in a tangle of limbs and fur. Lambert couldn’t see. Everyone was twisting and writhing, trying to get to their feet. Had it worked? He didn’t know. </p><p>‘Lambert…’</p><p>That was Eskel’s voice. Eskel’s beautiful, beautiful voice, rough with disuse and sounding as shocked as he ever had, but it was his voice. Lambert turned and met his deep hazel gaze. </p><p>‘I’m here, Lambert. It’s me. You saved me,’ he said, opening his arms. </p><p>Lambert fell forward into his embrace and they lay there for long moments simply drinking in each others’ presence. Geralt stood beside them, guarding them.</p><p>Once they had calmed, they stood up and Yennefer readied herself to cast on Geralt. A chill wind blew through the courtyard and they all shivered a little. </p><p>It was much easier the second time. Eskel grabbed hold of Geralt as he tried to bolt and Lambert’s tears mixed with his as they embraced the brother they hadn’t seen for over two decades. They may well have sat in the courtyard all day, wrapped up together, but they were broken apart by the soft touch of snowflakes on their cheeks. </p><p>The snow drifted down gently around them, blanketing them in its soft quiet. Eskel laughed, delighted and Geralt stuck his tongue out to catch a snowflake. As he did so, he turned and caught sight of Yennefer, watching them all with a fond smile. Aiden flew down and perched on Lambert’s bent knee. He cawed in quiet amusement. Lambert watched, equally amused as Geralt stumbled to his feet, clearly unsure what to do with only two of them, and made his way over.</p><p>‘Yen,’ he whispered, reaching out. </p><p>Yennefer reached back, their fingertips grazing against each other as the snow fell silently.</p><p>‘They were courting,’ Eskel whispered into Lambert’s ear, ‘Before the storm. Clearly he’s still been visiting.’</p><p>‘I met our father,’ Lambert whispered back.</p><p>‘You’ll have to tell me all about it.’</p>
<hr/><p>Over time, Yennefer rounded up everyone that she had been able to rescue with her transformation spell over the years. She found someone who loved them enough to cry for them and reunited families and lost lovers. She cried herself for the brown dove, who’s name was Triss and who Yennefer called sister. Geralt cried for her companion, the grey dove, who changed back into a young bard called Jaskier. Lambert and Eskel tried to tease out who they were to each other but were met with nothing but stony silence. Yennefer simply smiled mysteriously when they turned to her. </p><p>In the end, only Aiden was left. He refused to leave Lambert’s side and gave no indication of where they could start to search for those who cared for him. Eventually, Lambert snapped.</p><p>‘I’ll do it. I think I know him well enough by now to shed a couple of tears for him.’</p><p>Yennefer pulled him aside, ‘You realise you have to love him?’</p><p>‘It doesn’t have to be romantic. I cried for my family. I know he’s a crow, but he’s also somehow my best friend. I can do it, Yen. Let me.’</p><p>She took him at his word and the next morning, Lambert finally stood face to face with Aiden. His long brown hair curled lightly at the ends and he smiled a cheeky smile. </p><p>‘Love you too, asshole,’ he whispered and hugged Lambert.</p><p>As the winter melt began, they travelled back down the mountain path to Vesemir’s hut for the last time. Vesemir had been reluctant to leave, but in the end they had convinced him that a change of scenery would do him good.</p><p>The path home was long and full of adventure (including a detour through Midcopse to retrieve poor old Mathilde), but eventually, the small family made it back to the cottage in Oxenfurt where Lambert’s journey had begun almost a year before. He stood, bracketed between his brothers, with his father behind him. Aiden, Yennefer and Jaskier hung back, letting the family have a moment. </p><p>‘Home again, eh?’ Lambert said, nudging Eskel.</p><p>‘I suppose we are,’ he said, smiling softly. ‘I think we might need some more beds though.’</p><p>They went inside and began the rest of their lives together as the family they were always meant to be. And, together, they all lived happily ever after.</p>
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